


Channel Surfing

by 234am



Series: Channel Surfing [1]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII, Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Drabbles, Ensemble Cast, Multi, TV Tropes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-03-13 01:19:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13559616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/234am/pseuds/234am
Summary: A mishmash collection of warmup drabbles with prompts from readers.Tags, warnings, etc will be in the chapter summaries to keep the tag list short.





	1. your days are numbered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 6of575 - Cloud, Your Days Are Numbered
> 
> Gen, 675 words

In the aftermath of it all--Meteorfall, the Geostigma, and everything that came after--Cloud knelt in the broken church. Before him sat the shimmering pool of water, glistening in the slanted gray sunlight that shone through the gap in the roof. Behind it, the Buster Sword stood, a testament to the legacy he tried to live up to.

His visits to the church became more infrequent as he got into the swing of living his own life. Still, he tried to make time to come and attend to the flowers, or straighten up detritus left behind by pilgrims and other visitors. The pews were new, the walls largely repaired. Only the floorboards and the roof were left broken, allowing sunlight, earth, and water to produce the delicate yellow blossoms that had become a sign of hope for survivors of the Planet's struggles.

Once a year, the rainy season came and drowned Midgar in water. The tranquil pool in the church overflowed, flooding outwards. Taking a leaf from Edge's extensive pipe systems to cope with the season, Cloud installed grated pipes that ran the length of the aisle and out the front door.

The water flowed out into the road, which forced him to start digging out ditches to redirect it. Over time, other people pitched in, widening the ditches into canals that crept ever outwards. One day, the canals might completely ring the ruins of Midgar.

When the rainy season passed, the sun spilled out from heavy gray clouds for the first time. The water settled and then stirred again as the shimmer of lifestream flooded through its depths, illuminating the city where electricity did not. Flowers sprang up in the blink of an eye, crowding together on the banks of the canals and radiating out to every available space amid the broken ruins of the city.

That day became the Festival of Flowers.

The whole of Edge trooped out to the church. Pilgrims from all over the world brought their wounded and their sick to bathe in the waters, to be rejuvenated by the Planet's gift. In return, they worked to clear away more of the debris to make more room for flowers for the next year. Then at night, everyone celebrated with food, games, gifts, and more, and ended on the high note of fireworks.

And they all went home with handfuls of seeds to plant Aerith's flowers elsewhere, just like she always dreamed of.

Cloud took his moment of respite in the relative quiet of the church to reflect on her smile. Time softened the memories, made them gentler, though he knew she would laugh at him for thinking of her like that. She'd been a tough girl, brought up in the slums of Midgar and not the least bit afraid to get her hands dirty.

Her days were numbered, but she faced death down with dignity and bravery. Every day, Cloud strived to not just be Zack's legacy, but to be worthy of her example. He lived as if every day were his last, cherishing every moment.

"Cloud," a woman's voice said. Not Aerith's, but Tifa's, in the here and now.

"Yeah?"

"The gang's all here, just waiting on you."

"Okay." Cloud stood, dusting off his pants. He picked his way out of the bed of flowers, mindful not to crush any of the delicate blooms. "Let's get to work."

When he stepped out into the sunlight, it was to find his friends--his family--gathered in a loose cluster in front of the church, chattering boisterously. They saw him and shouted greetings, welcoming him into the fold.

"What's the plan, Spike?" Barret asked, clapping Cloud heavily on the shoulder.

Grinning, Cloud shrugged Barret's heavy hand off, elbowing the bigger man in the side. "Same as always. Let's go out there and save the planet."

With a whoop, the former members of AVALANCHE ventured out into the ruins of Midgar to do their share of clean up. Maybe one day, the scar on the planet would heal over, hidden by flowers.


	2. blue eyes / replacement goldfish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 6of575 - Cloud, Blue Eyes / Replacement Goldfish
> 
> Gen, 573 words

All his life, Cloud Strife tried to be something he was not.

As a child, he feigned at aloof snobbery, as though he were somehow better and more skilled than any of the other children. As though he above all others deserved Tifa's sole attention. Truth was, he was desperately lonely and wanted to be acknowledged.

With that goal in mind, he went off to Midgar to seek his fortune. He tried and failed to become SOLDIER, but wrote letters to his mother saying otherwise. He made up elaborate excuses about why the gil he sent home was so little. A problem with the computers, HR needed time to process his credentials, he had to spend on his own equipment and supplies, rent went up, on and on and on the list went.

Perhaps he hoped she would pass news of him on to Tifa and the rest of the town. Stupid. His mother had been a social outcast ever since his birth. A woman with a child out of wedlock, in a small, remote town... The whole town would have lost its collective minds over the prime gossip that her son was a washout.

Coming back to Nibelheim terrified him. Someone might have seen him, might have realized his lies. The terror only grew as Sephiroth descended into madness and flames, taking Cloud, Zack, Tifa, and the whole town with him.

For years after the incident, Cloud acted as Zack's living legacy without understanding what he was doing or why. He stopped being Cloud. He didn't even manage a decent facsimile of Zack, falling into easy petulance because _something_ wasn't right. No one bought into his act, Tifa and Aerith least of all, and they kept needling at him. They wanted him to be their sweetheart, or their friend, or both, and he couldn't do it.

And along came Sephiroth, giving him another mask to wear. Mindless puppet, not even a real person at all, but someone made in Sephiroth's image. Cloud failed that imitation, too.

Then the Meteor fell and no one wanted Cloud to be anything but himself.

Except that wasn't true. Tifa wanted him to be her childhood friend that lived with her and maybe sort of had feelings and raised orphans together. Denzel and Marlene wanted him to be their dad or brother or something familial. The rest of his friends all wanted him to be something or another. He wanted himself to be someone with their shit together. Even the Planet got in on it, wanting him _dead_.

As if that wasn't enough, the Remnants came creeping out of whatever dank and horrible laboratory to try and force him to be their Big Brother. And Gaia damned Sephiroth, come back from the dead with his puppet this puppet that.

In the aftermath of it all, Cloud looked into the glowing blue eyes reflected in the mirror and couldn't honestly say how much of his identity was genuine.

Maybe that was the secret-- taking the parts of what other people saw in him to _make_ it his own.

That, or running away to raise Chocobos. Or goldfish. No one would ever suspect the Planet’s Champion of being a goldfish farmer.

Cloud grinned at his reflection, shaking his head ruefully. He hadn't gotten everything figured out, but that was probably okay. The dreams of raising goldfish would keep while he took his best shot at being a complete person.


	3. badass bookworm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MrsHighwind - Cid, Badass Bookworm
> 
> T for Cid's mouth, 1078 words

" _Fuck_ this shit right up the goddamn _ass_ ," Cid snarled. He followed his outburst up with the loud thump of a book slammed down on his desk. "What the hell does Reeve think I am, some kinda fuckin' all purpose science geek? I don't know _shit_ about fuckin' biology 'cept where to stick it!"

The door on the far side of the room swung open. Vincent's silhouette filled the doorway, silent and watchful. In an attempt to modernize him, Reeve insisted he wear suits while in the employ of the WRO. Over that, he still wore the red cloak, an absurd number of belts, and the heavy artillery he called a handgun. He tilted his head slightly, glancing around the dusty laboratory, but found only Cid fuming at one of the desks.

"Everything alright, Chief?"

"Hell no! Lookit these fuckin' notes, they're gibberish."

Dutifully, Vincent slunk over to peer down at the notebook that sat open by Cid's elbow. It was handwritten in ink, the letters robotically blocky and of a consistent size. Not a single sentence made sense in the context of its neighbors.

"Have you found the cipher?"

"No, but it's got somethin' to do with, uhh, shit, what was it..."

Cid shoved a pile of thick books out of his way, yanking his own scattered notes out from under them. As several of them crashed to the floor, Vincent straightened to blink down at the growing mess. He frowned over the bent pages and abused spines, but abstained from interrupting Cid's train of thought.

"Ah, here it is!" Cid flapped a crumpled piece of paper to smooth it out a little. "Bastard keeps droppin' words in the middle of sentences that ain't got anything to do with shit, so I strung em together and uhhh... He's rantin' 'bout goddamn _garden snails_ eatin' his plants? What the _fuck_ does that have to do with the price of tea in Midgar??" Slapping the paper down, Cid stood up and began to pace. "And the sentences just keep gettin' longer and longer and _I'm losin' my goddamn shit_ , Valentine, why ain't we just burnin' this hovel down?"

"You know why."

"Reeve can fuckin' shove it up his ass, there ain't gonna be shit anybody can use here!"

"And if there's something unfortunate hidden here, waiting to be released by reckless pyromaniacs with dynamite?"

Cid groaned, dragging his hands through his hair. "Fuuuuck."

"Quite."

Vincent set his foreclaw against the crumpled bit of paper covered in Cid's chicken scratch. He pulled it towards himself and spent several long moments trying to decipher the sloppy handwriting. In the background, Cid rifled through the bookshelves, perhaps hoping they'd overlooked something.

"Cid."

"Yeah?"

"The golden spiral."

Cid stopped dead in his tracks. " _Oh._ " He dropped another book on the floor and hurried over to flip through the notebook. "Oh, shit, that's fuckin' it, ain't it? Damn, I'm a dumb ass, that's so fuckin'--"

"You've been staring at it for over thirty-two hours with limited sleep, Chief," Vincent said, softly.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, gimme a min, I can hash this out..."

"Hm." Vincent left him there, shutting the door behind.

Later, as Cid muttered filthy words under his breath and worked his way through translating the twisty bullshit, Vincent brought tea and a sandwich.

"Should take a break, Chief."

"Almost got it..."

"Cid."

"Fuck, fiiiine. Ya let that catty bastard know?" Cid threw his pencil down, watched dully as it bounced off the desk and rolled away to be lost in the scattered heap of books.

"Yes. He's sending a squadron our way for cleanup, once you give the all clear."

"Not sure I can, Vince," Cid muttered, as he pulled the tea close and took his first sip. "Seems like there _is_ more hidden down here. Fuckin' ShinRa sure knew how to hire 'em for their biotech department, huh?"

"Mm."

While Cid ate his lunch, Vincent pored over the partially translated notes. Then he busied himself by rescuing the books from their fates, returning them to their places on the shelf. Cid thought it a useless endeavor, they'd probably burn the place down once they dismantled whatever nasty surprises lay in wait.

The WRO kept uncovering hidden caches of ShinRa technology, some of it useful, but most of it harmful. The worst were the hidden labs. Hojo didn't build them all, though he had a hand in more than a few. His proteges spread across the world, each getting up to their own brand of horrible.

After the attempts to dismantle the last one resulted in a couple miles of grasslands south of Nibelheim becoming irradiated, Reeve thought it best to send Vincent out to the next.

Vincent, clever as he could be, was not at all inclined towards the sciences. He'd requested the assistance of someone who could make heads or tails of coded scientific journals. Reeve thought it funny to call in a favor owed to send a _rocket scientist_ and mechanical engineer down into the depths beneath Midgar.

They were somewhere beneath the ruins of Sector 1 and Cid couldn't remember the last time he'd breathed fresh air under a clear sky. He glowered into his tea, ruminating on how much he missed his own bed and the familiar rumble of the airship.

Vincent kept fidgeting with the damn books, shuffling them from one spot to the next on the shelf. Cid glared over, chewing on his sandwich. Just as he swallowed and opened his mouth to tell Vincent to cut it out, there came a grinding noise and the hiss of pneumatic locks releasing.

"What the fuck?"

An entire section of floor slid away in front of the shelves, revealing a ramp going down. Vincent stood back, meeting Cid's gaze with all the cool disinterest of one who dealt with secret passage bullshit on a regular basis.

"Your translation lists cited sources a little early."

Cid squinted at his unfinished notes. "Yeah, and how the fuck didja go from that?"

"Instead of publication dates, it lists weights."

"That's some kinda fuckin' convoluted shit right there. Snails and weighted books."

"Are you coming?"

"We don't fuckin' know what's down there, since I ain't finished."

"Has that ever stopped you before?"

"Hell no!" Cid threw back the rest of his tea, then bounced up to snatch his spear from where it sat against a nearby wall. "Let's go fuck shit up."

Vincent drew his gun, checked the materia, then nodded. "Let's."

Together, they descended.


	4. beloved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 6of575 - Cloud/Leon, nonverbal & touch starved
> 
> M/M, Gen, 824 words

The agreement between them: a weekend alone, out on a scouting mission away from the safety of Radiant Garden. They needed to know what remained of the rest of the planet. They needed to know what would remain of their friendship if they went any further.

Cloud perched on a flat rock, legs tucked under him, his boots discarded in the grass below. He watched Leon, blue eyes reflecting the too blue sky behind him, the sunlight making his hair glow like a halo.

_Too much already,_ Leon realized, as he looked away, out over the field of dandelions and clover. His heart felt choked up by weeds and worse. _Stupid._ They should have brought the girls along. Then it wouldn't be so awkward and silent, every moment narrowed down to a pinpoint of too sharp feeling needling at him.

A double snap of fingers dragged Leon's attention back. Cloud put his fist under his chin, thumb extended, and brought it forward, then used both fists, pinkies touching, to make alternating waving motions outward from his chest. [Don't worry.] Cheekily, Cloud added a twining motion in the air beside his face, as though stroking whiskers.

"Cloud..."

"C'mon." Cloud patted the rock. He pointed at Leon, then tapped his forefinger against his chin. [You said.]

He did. He asked Cloud out there, alone, and asked him to sit still and let him... Let them try to be more.

Leon stepped up to the rock, standing uncertainly in front of Cloud. He hesitated, then shed his gloves, dropping them into the grass with Cloud's boots. The sky watched him from the upturned face of his best friend. With only the slightest tremor, he reached out, touching the barest tips of his fingers against Cloud's cheeks. Color blossomed beneath his touch, red splotches like flowers spreading as Cloud's breath hitched.

Always, the slightest touch rocked them both to their core.

Normally, he would withdraw, or Cloud would flee. Not that day. They stayed frozen together, Leon's fingers framing Cloud's face, neither daring to breathe lest the moment be shattered, everything crashing down around their ears again, lost to darkness--

"Leon." Cloud exhaled.

As if to complete the cycle, Leon inhaled. "...Yeah."

Cloud laid his hands over Leon's, averting his gaze at last. He applied pressure, urging Leon to touch him more fully. And Leon did, cradling the face he knew so well as if it were the most fragile, precious thing in the entirety of existence. It was. It belonged to the boy who saw him at his worst but still wanted to be friends, the boy who slipped into darkness and came back to them--to him--full grown and changed, the man with the sad blue eyes who said he didn't care but threw himself into the fight to protect them all the same.

Leon's scar itched, and he fought the urge to pull away and rub at it. He wondered if Cloud felt that way about his scars, hidden from sight but nevertheless real.

He bent until their faces were inches apart. Just that, sharing the same air and nothing else. Cloud stilled again, except for rapid, uneven breathing. Furtive, he glanced up at Leon through his lashes, fingers tightening around Leon's hands.

Something hot and wet slipped out over Leon's fingers. Too much, too fast. Rain dribbling down from the sky. He tried to pull away, but Cloud hung on, squeezing like he might drown in the salt water. Not once since his return had Cloud ever cried, ever let go of the shadows of darkness clinging to him from his long years of being lost and alone. Leon didn't know what to do, how to make it right, only that it was his fault.

"Cloud, I--" 

"Anything out of your mouth is stupid," Cloud croaked.

Leon gave a hysterical little grunt. He needed to sign it, anything he said was stupid, that was the rule, ever since they were kids, but Cloud wasn't _letting go_. With a huff, Leon sank to his knees, hands still trapped. He bowed his head and waited.

Finally, finally Cloud let go, breath hitching in silent sobs. He curled in on himself, but not before Leon surged up, tapping his forefinger against his chest to make him _look_.

Another tap to Cloud's chest, feather light and quick, then Leon laid his hands flat, one over the other, over his own heart. [You're beloved,] he reminded, just like the stupid prank Cloud played on him, changing the words of their game to catch Leon off guard. 

_"Anything out of your mouth is--"_

_"Cloud."_

_"--beloved."_

He caught Cloud's shaky hands when they reached for him, turned the right one so he could kiss against the inside of Cloud's wrist, and repeated the gesture to the other. Then he let go of the sky because if he didn't, the whole thing would come shattering down into pieces, darkness pouring into his world.


	5. squishy wizard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lavacherries - Aerith, Squishy Wizard (with a side of Tifa / Cloud role swap)
> 
> Teen for canon typical violence, 2001 words

Mako glowed from her eyes, ghost fire leaving trails in the shadows of the old church. She woke surrounded by yellow flowers, the sickeningly sweet perfume overwhelming and nauseating, and retreated to a corner to empty her stomach. Nothing came up but bile. She couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten, nor what it was like to have a real appetite. Everything felt hazy and confused, all but what was right in front of her out of focus.

A woman in a pink dress and a red jacket watched her from the flowers. Green eyes, brown hair, and a pinched little frown marring a pretty face. A metal staff held loosely in her left hand, dented from use. The right clutched against her chest.

"Are you alright?" the woman asked.

 _No,_ Tifa thought, but what came out of her mouth was, "Don't worry about me."

"I have some water, if you need it."

"No, I--"

"Don't be stubborn."

Tifa hiccuped a startled, helpless sort of laugh. "Sorry."

She stood and made her way through the pews, most of them rotten and broken down. Those that remained were crooked, shoved out of the way to make room for the flowers. Tifa wondered, absently, if the woman before her had pulled the floorboards way to plant them. She looked up, taking in the gap in the ceiling, amazed that enough light got past the plate above for the flowers.

Smoke and flickers of fire were visible from the ragged gash in the plate where Tifa fell. She hoped Cloud and Barret were okay...

The woman pushed an old canteen into her hands. "What's your name?"

"I'm... Tifa."

"Aerith."

The way Aerith smiled made Tifa's heart give a funny lurch. It kind of hurt, and made her face heat up. She half turned away, busying herself with chugging half the lukewarm, stale water. It dribbled down her chin, soaking into her turtleneck.

"Did you fall?" Aerith asked. She tipped her head back, looking up. "From the sky..."

"No, from the plate."

"Oh. So you don't have wings?"

"Wings?"

"Nevermind."

Shaking her head, smiling again, Aerith went to kneel in the flowers. Tifa watched her for a moment, at a loss. Aerith didn't seem to notice, didn't seem to think the situation strange at all. She hummed softly as she pulled up weeds and plucked pests from leaves, flicking them away over her shoulder.

"I should--" Tifa shrugged. She didn't know _what_ she should do. Go back to the Seventh Heaven, probably. "Do you need help?"

The church doors opened just wide enough to let a red head in a blue suit enter. Behind him, three ShinRa marines blocked the exit, their guns held at resting position. The red head sauntered down the aisle with his hands in his pockets.

"You're dressed like SOLDIER."

"I am."

Aerith stood, brushing dirt and the like from her dress. "So... can I hire you to be my bodyguard?"

Tifa glanced past Aerith's shoulder. The red head stood about five feet behind her, hip cocked to one side, watching them with piercing eyes and a smug smirk.

"Don't worry about me, girlfriend," the man said. He flopped one hand without removing the other from his pocket.

With a frown, Tifa turned to Aerith. "Do you need one? A bodyguard?"

"It might be nice to have someone to walk home with." Aerith kept her gaze on Tifa, but her shoulders were tense, fingers clutching at the front of her dress. "You could stay for dinner?"

"O-oh." Tifa took a breath and nodded. She was SOLDIER, not some blushing ninny to be flustered by the mere offer for dinner. "Okay, sure."

"Hey, time to go," the man said.

Aerith nodded. "Take me home, Tifa."

She pointed without lifting her hand so the man behind her couldn't see. Tifa turned to look, and found another door at the back of the church. 

"Lead the way. I'll take care of--"

"Don't fight here." Aerith shook her head hard enough to make her braid thump against her back. "You'll ruin the flowers."

"Okay. Sorry."

"It's okay. Let's go."

"Ya sure 'bout this, sis?" the man called. "Looks like a weirdo!"

Still not reacting to the man at all, Aerith bent to undo some of the buttons on her dress skirt. She wore a pair of red shorts underneath, matching her jacket. Her legs were long and lean, a smattering of freckles on them suggesting she occasionally got some sun.

Tifa pulled her gaze away a little too quickly, clearing her throat. "Who _is_ that guy, do you know him?"

The dress flapped around her legs as Aerith walked quickly for the back door. "Turks. His name's Reno. Don't... pay him any mind, it's just his job."

"Just his job? To, what, harass you?" Tifa hurried after Aerith, cracking her knuckles.

The back room of the church consisted of a mess of broken floors and rickety stairs. Some kind of rusty old rocket had crashed through the ceiling long ago. It leaned precariously against one wall, its nose lost in the gloom of a lower floor.

Aerith stopped at the edge of the floor, nudging at a broken piece of wood with her boot. It went toppling off the edge to clatter down below.

"They're supposed to take me back to ShinRa..."

"Back...?"

"Yeah, maybe they want to recruit me to SOLDIER!" Aerith spun back, lifting one scrawny arm to flex. "Do you think I have what it takes?"

"You... should stay away from ShinRa."

Mirth fading, Aerith nodded. "I know." She glanced past Tifa, clutching at her staff in both hands tight enough that her knuckles went white. "Here they come."

"Do you have any materia?"

"Not that kind..."

Tifa smacked the flat of her palm against the bangle on her wrist, popping out a single green materia. She snatched it out of the air and held it out to Aerith between forefinger and middle finger.

In the light filtering through broken stained glass, the little orb sparked. When Aerith's fingertips touched it, the energy inside swirled, glowing fever bright for a moment. Their fingers brushed, lingering. An electric shock raced up Tifa's arm, making her heart beat that much faster.

Quickly, Tifa spun on her heel and advanced on the trio of marines. Reno stood back, slouched in the doorway as if bored.

"Don't get in our way," one of the marines warned.

The middle raised their gun; the barrel wavered unsteadily. "We won't let the Ancient get away."

 _Ancient?_

Tifa glanced back, at the woman who looked no older than herself. Short, thin, and pale, yet somehow not run down by the filth of the slums. Silver hair and wrinkles would only enhance Aerith's looks. Shaking off the distracting thought, Tifa braced her feet apart and lifted her fists.

The marines tittered nervously, safeties unlocking with rapid click-click-clicks. Almost before the echo of the sound faded, Tifa launched herself across the room.

She swung her fist up, cracking the middle marine's jaw shut with a solid hit. Blood spurted as they recoiled, clutching at their mouth, their gun swinging on its strap over their shoulder.

Tifa caught the gun, yanking the first marine with her as she twisted to aim and fire a short burst at the left marine. Then she grabbed the first marine by the arm and hauled them up, spinning to throw them into their bloodied comrade.

As the two marines fell, screaming, she swung the other way, bringing her leg up in a hard downward swipe. Somehow, the last marine managed to stumble back, avoiding the devastating blow. Tifa's boot smashed through the rotten floorboards, and she was caught.

"Hey, you goons, the Ancient's getting away!" Reno called, still slouched there in the doorway. "Quit messin' around, yo!!"

Somehow, Aerith managed to get across the huge gap in the floor to a rickety stairwell on the far side. It wobbled and rattled as she ran up the stairs, loose debris falling. Tifa watched with her heart in her mouth, desperately trying to get her foot loose.

The last marine standing brought their gun up and fired in a wide spray towards Aerith. The bullets tore chunks of stone and wood to pieces, filling the air with clouds of dust. The roar of gunfire did not seem nearly as loud as Tifa's heartbeat, as her scream of furious terror.

Or the explosive crack of thunder that crashed down on them all.

Blinding light skittered along the floor like shivery, flickering creepy crawlers, moving too fast to be avoided. They parted around Tifa, a tidal wave of light and buzzing static that made her hair stand on end. The things smashed into the marines, and they screamed, their bodies convulsing as they collapsed.

The light faded. Tifa's ears rang in the queer silence that followed, her panting breaths muffled and distant. She looked around wildly but saw little between the sunspots in her vision, swirling red and black and warning of the headache to come.

A blur of pink and red lay prone at the top of the steps. More red dripped down the steps, a slow, sluggish waterfall. Tifa lunged up to her feet, yanking loose of the floorboards. Her ankle twinged as she raced towards the gap and leapt across. The stairs swayed dangerously under her weight as she pounded up them, thinking of nothing but:

_No, no, no--_

Aerith clutched at her leg, offering a grimacing smile. "I'm-- I'm okay." Her already pale face was sheet white so that the freckles on her cheeks stood out starkly. "It's..."

"You're, you're bleeding out."

Tifa dropped into a crouch next to Aerith, yanking one of her belts off to use it as a tourniquet. Fast, efficient, her hands doing the motions even though she couldn't remember ever learning how to do it. Surely she must have picked it up during training...

"Damn! Don't die, sis!" Reno stood at the edge, bent at the waist so he could lean forward precariously. "Those morons... What were they thinking?"

"What do you care!?" Tifa shot back.

"My job ain't killin' her, SOLDIER."

"You might as well, if you give her to ShinRa!"

A familiar voice, young and cracked with grief, echoed through her head. _Sephiroth... SOLDIER... Mako Reactors... ShinRa... Everything! I hate them all!!_

For a moment, the world split in two overlapping images, dizzying. Then dirty, sweaty hands gripped her forearm, dragging her back to the present. Tifa met Aerith's watery green-eyed gaze.

"It's okay. I'm okay. Don't... don't worry, okay?"

Reno threw something high into the air. "Here, catch, SOLDIER girl!"

Tifa reacted on instinct, snatching the materia before it could fall. She looked at it, blinking, then slotted it into her bangle. It was a new Cure, cool and soothing.

She focused on the materia, drawing the green light out and letting it drift down over Aerith's leg. The bleeding slowed, then stopped. Aerith hissed, bony fingers pinching as she clutched too hard at Tifa's arm. A moment later, two bullets wriggled up out of the wounds, forced out by rapid healing. They clinked on the wood and bounced down the steps.

"Thanks," Aerith sighed, after.

She looked utterly exhausted, eyes gone glassy. Tifa caught her when she slumped forward, eyelids drooping. Her body was so thin, made of such fragile little bird bones that Tifa feared snapping her in two with one wrong move.

"Ya oughta get outta here." Reno turned away from the edge and walked off, waving vaguely over his shoulder. "Catch ya later."

Tifa scooped Aerith up in a bridal carry and climbed the rest of the way up to the rafters. She hopped up through the hole in the roof and stood there, watching until Reno left the church and wandered off into the slums. Then she turned and made her way across the rooftops, not really certain where she was going but positive that she was never, ever going to let ShinRa take Aerith.


	6. eldritch abomination

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aftepes - Vincent, Eldritch Abomination
> 
> M/M, Teen, horror, 1490 words

[0013/07/14]

Damn thermostats fucked. Says 70 but always colder. In coat and longjohns, still cold.

Vin dont notice nothin. Says its fine.

Somethings wrong.

-

The door to his office opened with a soft click. A long, inky black shadow spilled into the room, impossibly huge. Cid closed his journal and tossed it into a desk drawer, then twisted around in his chair to look. A black and red silhouette filled the doorway. Its whole body gave several eerie jerks, each one accompanied by cracks like gunfire.

Cid blinked, shuddering, and the moment passed. It was only Vincent, watching him with brows and mouth drawn down in worry.

"Come to bed, Chief."

"Yeah..." Cid knuckled at his eyes, feeling a stab of a growing headache pulsing behind them. "Yeah, alright."

He rose on unsteady legs and crossed the room. Vincent caught him by the elbow and Cid flinched. It felt like too many fingers--too many limbs--wrapped around his arm, claws and teeth sliding across his skin to leave a wake of pain behind.

"Fuck--"

And then it was gone, nothing touching him but Vincent's left hand, encased in a glove. Cid exhaled noisily.

"Sorry." Vincent set the back of his hand against Cid's forehead. "You're burning up..."

"Just need... some sleep, s'all."

Silent, Vincent herded him to their bedroom. He made Cid strip down to his skivvies, red eyes narrowing over the excess of layers. When Cid insisted on more blankets, Vincent sighed, but complied, digging them out of the closet. Only after he was under three blankets could Cid finally get to sleep, weighed down by the comforting warmth.

-

[0013/07/21]

Fever knocked me on my ass. Still tired and weak. Wanna get back to work but Vin fussy.

~~Cant tell him I keep~~

Some kinda bugs everywhere. Gonna have to get spray.

-

Cid shuffled through the house, feeling wobbly and shaky. His mood crackled and snarled, and every time Vincent appeared nearby to hover and fret, he had to physically bite back the urge to snap.

That he never saw Vincent come or go really irritated him. He felt numb and slow, lost in a fugue state of fog where everything was just out of reach, happening too fast for him to perceive. One minute Vincent was at his elbow, the next he was alone.

A big skittering shape scurried out of the corner of his vision. Cid spun towards it with a sharp inhale, clutching at his can of bug spray. The thing vanished somewhere near the bookshelf, maybe. Grumbling under his breath, Cid crossed the room to search the bookshelf. He found no signs of insects, no chewed up books, nothing moving. Not even a single speck of dust. Vincent kept his space tidy, and read through his books often enough to keep them from getting musty.

"Need something, Chief?"

Cid jumped, dropping the can. "Shit!!"

He flailed as he whirled towards Vincent, banging his elbow on a bookshelf to smack his ulnar nerve against the edge. The shock of pain radiated up his arm, making him bark out another swear.

Cool hands settled against his cheeks. Warm breath against his face, smelling of strawberries. Cid blinked dumbly up at Vincent, everything else falling away. Something impossibly huge and ancient watched him from Vincent's ruby red eyes. He trembled, unable to look away.

A thousand thousand black shapes skittered at the corners of his vision, swelling up with a horrible chittering sound. Cid's breathing picked up, too fast, chest clenching.

"Shh." Vincent pressed a kiss to his forehead. Just like that, the nightmare faded. "You're so wound up, Chief. Come eat lunch."

"...Yeah."

-

[0013/07/23]

Got some wild dogs loose around here. Hear them at night in the bins. Barking all the time. Dug up garden. Tripped in a hole twisted my ankle.

Vin shoot one. Carcas hung off the barn.

 ~~Theyre~~ hes pissed.

-

Cid sat on the screened in back porch, in his favorite rocking chair, with his foot wrapped up in a brace and propped on a crate. He sipped iced tea and watched Vincent pace through the garden. Wherever Vincent went, the plants drooped, their leaves darkening. They grew thorns and prickly brambles, even if they were not the kind of plants that normally did such things. Cid knew he wasn't dreaming because his ankle kept twinging.

Soon, the brambles overtook the whole garden. Soon, they climbed the high stone walls and spread out in the grass beyond.

The little black specks crawled between the shadowy tangles, chittering and clattering. If Cid tried to look at them, they seemed to blur away, always staying just to the corner of his vision. They kept their distance from him, though, so he tried not to worry about it.

Vincent-- and the thing, that ancient, terrible thing that lived inside him-- stalked down the garden path to stand at the foot of the porch steps. He held his big revolving rifle loosely in one hand, the barrel cradled in the golden clawed gauntlets. His gaze was distant, as he looked off to the right, surveying what remained of the garden.

In the back corner of the garden, the dog carcass swung slowly in the barn doorway, dripping ichor. Flies swarmed around it, their buzzing loud even over the continuous chattering of the black specks. The other dogs didn't bark anymore, they just lurked out at the edges of the forest, watching with glittering eyes full of fire.

Cid opened his mouth, then closed it. He had no idea how to call out to Vincent and Vincent alone without drawing the attention of that thing in the shadow of his eyes.

Red eyes swiveled towards him, pinning him. "Are you," Vincent's voice said, overlapped with the whispery rasp of the other, "Feeling any better?"

"I'm... It's fine, Vince, really."

"Good. I--" "--we--" "--could not bear to lose you, Chief."

"...Yeah. Ya gonna leave the garden like that?"

The thing, not Vincent, said, "It's better, this way."

-

[0013/07/28]

Dreams are

~~I keep~~

Wish I could sleep.

-

Vincent slept all the time, his body draped over Cid. The thing did not; it watched from Vincent's eyes, an eerie yellow glow in Vincent's pupils. Sometimes, it whispered things in a hissing language that Cid did not know, the words tearing at his eardrums, scoring the inside of his skull until blood dripped from his ears and nose.

Sometimes, it touched him.

Sometimes, he craved it.

The creature followed him into his dreams, when exhaustion finally caught up to him. There, it stood at the edges of his awareness, watching. A dark shadow with golden eyes that did not move, chilling the scene with its presence.

Every time Cid became fully aware of its presence, he jolted awake, though it had done nothing to him. It blinked at him guilelessly from Vincent's face, as though confused as to why he would pull away, why he went hobbling off to the bathroom to scrub and scrub with the hottest water.

"Why?" the creature asked, when he came limping back.

"You're... not Vincent."

"We are one and the same."

"No."

The creature laughed at him, quietly. It reached for him, drawing him close beneath the blankets, fingers tracing up his sides and back, so cold it burned. He yelped and squirmed, but there was no reprieve.

"Shh, Chief, go to sleep. We will safeguard."

-

[0013/07/29]

 ~~he~~ they knew

-

Cid stood barefoot in the garden. Brambles dug into his bare feet, drawing blood. All around him, the specks ambled about, their chatter muted and sleepy. High above, the clouds parted in a perfect circle, revealing a clear patch of night sky glittering with stars. It was cold, making the small hairs on his arms stand up, goosebumps prickling down.

Down the path, standing in front of the barn, Vincent waited. Their red, red cloak pooled around them, swirling in the breeze like blood in water. They held their golden claws out towards Cid, their face soft and relaxed.

One painful, bloodied step at a time, Cid walked forward. He tucked his hand into the waiting claws. Vincent's lips parted in a smile around sharp fangs. Impossibly gentle, they laced fingers with Cid's, the tips of their claws prickling but not piercing skin.

"It's both of ya, isn't it."

"There's only us." Their voice was deep with a whispery echo, no longer separated. Vincent tucked their other arm around Cid's waist, drawing him into the folds of the cloak. "From now into forever."

"Gotta stop it. Don't pull no one else into this."

"We only want you."

Cid nodded, resting his head against Vincent's shoulder. "Yeah. I wanna see it... space, when the whole fuckin' thing is done. But not 'til it's time, okay?"

"We will give you infinity," Vincent promised. "As many lifetimes as you want, as many planets, as many stars, your dream eternal."

"Thanks, nova..."


	7. you are in command now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sayitaintsloane - Cid, You Are In Command Now
> 
> M for Gore and Major Character Death (Reeve), 1095 words

The unofficial king of the world was dead.

The man single-handedly held the weight of the plate on his back for years, keeping the whole rotten thing from collapsing inwards. When Meteor came, he evacuated the city. After, he picked up the broken pieces of the civilized world and tried to make something of it again. Without him, humanity would have died off, just as the Calamity intended.

He lay face down in a pool of blood, an undignified sprawl with his once brilliant brains splattered out in a gory array on the floor.

And the fucking cat was still active, crouched over its creator and shaking like a leaf. Its black and white fur was matted with clumpy red chunks, gloves and shoes ruined. The crown and megaphone lay dented and broken nearby.

Cid crossed the room slowly, his limbs feeling leaden and rusted over. He passed the slumped bodies of Reeve's guards, each of them shot once, fatally, through an eye socket. The whole building was like that. Corpses everywhere, the entire upper rank of the WRO wiped out in one brutal attack.

Behind him, Vincent's boots clicked on the tiles, his leather creaking as a reminder that he was still there, watching Cid's back. Yuffie made a choked off sobbing noise before retreating, the door slamming behind her.

Cait Sith tilted its head back, eerily jerky, like it forgot how to be a cute kitty mascot. The eyes were open, wide and green with huge black pupils. It offered no quips nor even a single sound of grief. Just silence.

Cid knelt at the edge of the tacky red bloodstain, putting his fists against his thighs. He looked at his longtime friend and employer, and his heart lurched, and he thought of nothing much at all for a while.

The cat crawled over to sit by him, its head and ears drooping. It clutched at its tail, twisting bloodied, gloved hands this way and that around the end. If it kept it up, it would wear the fur away, and there existed no one left who knew how to fix it.

"Cut it out," Cid said.

Cait Sith looked up at him, going quite still. Then it nodded, releasing its tail.

Vincent came up to stand at Cid's other side, looking down at Reeve with his face hidden by mantle and hair. His golden claws twitched, glinting in the low afternoon light slanting through the floor to ceiling windows along the far wall.

"What's the plan, Chief?"

"I don't know, why're ya askin' me?"

The gleam of Vincent's red eyes pinned Cid when he said, "Chain of command falls to you."

"Damn. I can't..." Cid clenched his fists against his pants, blunt nails biting into his palms. He wasn't prepared to rule the world. He didn't know the first thing about fixing people. " _Fuck_. Ya gonna help me?"

"Command me, Chief."

"...Yeah. Yeah, alright." Cid looked at Cait. "What 'bout ya, cat, ya gonna keep goin'?"

Cait Sith looked at its creator. It reached out, put a hand against Reeve's shoulder, lingering. Then it pressed that same hand in the blood, and held it up to Cid, palm stained totally red.

Cid stared and recalled that Reeve's family came from Kalm, before they'd settled in Midgar. They'd believed in fair folk and somewhere out there, the real Cait Sith roamed, bringing misfortune to those that forgot the family's binding contract. It was in their blood.

"Ya gonna tell me the rules?"

"The rules are yours to make."

Somehow, Cid didn't think the cat just meant for itself. The whole world's rules were at Cid's discretion now, through the power the WRO still held.

He took the thing's hand, giving a firm shake that lifted it up off the floor. His skin stuck against the tacky glove, pulling unpleasantly when he peeled away. Cait Sith landed on its toes, a little more lively, a little more like itself. Its ears and tail remained drooped, but it closed its eyes and put the usual smug cat smile on.

"D'yanno how the Tuestis treat their dead?" Cid asked.

"Aye." Cait bobbed its head. "Reeve wanted to be buried alongside his mother, near the church."

Standing, Cid nodded. He rubbed his hand against his pants, smearing red over dark green. "Yeah, alright. Let's take him, first. Then... fuck, I guess find out who's still alive, get a crew together to clean this shit hole up."

It was Vincent who knelt to gather Reeve's body up in a bridal carry, painstakingly gentle. Cid folded Reeve's arms over his belly so they wouldn't hang down. As they marched out of the office and down the stairs in single file, Vincent carried Reeve with the gory remains of his head hidden against the red of the cape.

Yuffie waited for them down in the lobby. She looked at the body, then away, swiping her hands across her eyes, as if she could stop the tears.

Cid slung his arm around her shaking shoulders. "C'mon, kid, let's go put him to rest."

They buried Reeve behind the church, right next to his mother exactly like Cait said to. Vincent scratched Reeve's name onto the tombstone with his claws. Cid said a few words, stupid, empty things that couldn't possibly encompass everything Reeve was, everything Reeve did for them. Yuffie cried into Vincent's cape. Cait Sith stood motionless at the foot of his creator's grave and said nothing at all.

The rest of their friends showed up in ones and twos, each of them paying their respects. Tifa brought liquor and dumped an excess of it onto Reeve's grave. Cloud laid yellow lilies and chocobo feathers against the stone. Barret stood by and talked at length at Reeve, as though he were still alive. Nanaki let out a long, mournful howl.

Then they went to the Seventh Heaven to get cleaned up, to eat and drink and reminisce. If any of them slept, it was uneasily.

Later, Cid took command, sending people to secure the HQ building, to clean up and send the bodies home to their families. Later, he stood in front of a podium with a dozen cameras in his face, flash photography blinding him while too many people shouted questions at him.

Vincent stood to his left, Yuffie to his right. Cait Sith hung onto his shoulder. Their other friends stood at the front of the crowd, a solid wall against the press of bodies.

The whole world waited with baited breath to see what he would do.


	8. voluntary shapeshifting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sayitaintsloane - Vin/Cid, Voluntary Shapeshifting
> 
> M/M, M for violence/blood, continuation of Reeve-is-dead verse, 1324 words

"What d'ya think, cat?"

The little robot cat hummed, soft between jagged teeth. The front incisor was snapped in half so sometimes its lip got caught on the tooth, giving the cat a very disgusted sneer. It tipped its head back, the crown on its head sliding crookedly to the side. The one remaining eye slanted open, green glittering between lashes.

"I can handle it, boss."

"Right. Get back in one piece."

Cait Sith threw a salute, grinning wide to show all its teeth. Then it clambered down the hill, staying low. All Cid saw of its progress was the rustle of tall golden yellow grass, veering wide to the east side of the rusty shed. He stayed laying flat in the grass, not daring to move until Cait came back.

Ten years ago, the Tsviets rose from whatever hole they'd been moldering in to throw the world into chaos. They did so by assassinating Commissioner Tuesti and most of the senior officers of the WRO, leaving Cid standing in the burning wreckage with no hope of recovery. The WRO collapsed within three years as the Tsviets relentlessly assaulted key infrastructure, dismantling society one bloody chunk at a time. They employed guerrilla tactics, never sticking around for long enough for retaliation.

Edge went first, wiped off the map. Then Kalm, and with it, the chocobo farms and mithril mines. Junon was a crumbling ruin, the plate leaning precariously out over the ocean, ready to collapse any day now. All of the resorts were ghost towns. Wutai closed itself off, turning away refugees. Cid hadn't heard from Yuffie in years.

Rocket Town persisted, though it had moved into the Nibel mountains. His people were stubborn sons of bastards, fending off the Tsviets at every turn. They took in refugees as they came, even if it meant risking infiltration by the enemy. Cid always took care of it.

The people still called him Captain, but they said he had two reapers at his beck and call, one in black and one in red.

Cid turned his head at the faint whispery rustle to his right. Vivid red oozed along the ground like blood, pooling together until Vincent lay at his side, looking exactly as he'd done when they first dragged him out of his coffin. Pale and beautiful and barely human. His red eyes glittered with barely restrained malice.

After all these years, Vincent still thought the survival of the Tsviets was his fault. He'd left Weiss for dead when he should have put a bullet through the corpse's skull just to be sure.

"It's too quiet, Chief."

"Yeah. Cait's havin' a look."

Vincent shifted closer, laying his head against Cid's shoulder. He breathed in deep and slow, eyelids fluttering. A brief moment of respite, since they rarely got any. Cid nosed at Vincent's temple, keeping an eye on the building below.

The high pitched shriek of a bottle rocket rising in the air, followed by the echoing crack boom and flash of sparks across the sky interrupted the silence. Cait had been spotted.

As Cid jumped up and raced down the hill, Vincent surged up onto his hands and feet with a rising snarl. 

His form doubled in size, dark purple energy whipping around him, the red cape splitting and spreading, casting a red shadow over the hillside. The monster howled as his bones shattered apart, flesh ripping, all of it reforming. He took to the air with a flap of his great wings and shot past Cid, his long tail held stiffly behind him and his limbs tucked close to his massive body.

Vincent didn't turn into Galian anymore and he didn't don the trappings of Chaos. Didn't turn into the others, either. He'd become something bigger and meaner, with huge wings and claws and horns, spitting hellfire and ripping the wretched souls away from his prey.

By the time Cid reached the shed, it'd been knocked flat, revealing the stairs leading down into the basement. He hefted his spear as he scrambled down the rickety wooden steps, swing it sharply around a corner as he turned it, caught a Tsviet grunt in the gut. He ripped the spear blade back, sending a spray of blood out that spattered across his front, staining his shirt.

The basement hall widened out into a series of interconnected honeycomb-shaped rooms. Vincent tore through the soldiers trying to hold him off from behind crates and shelves, filling the air with the flowing lights of the lifestream. Cait Sith lobbed explosives from the safety of a large metal shipping crate.

Cid strode through the middle of the battlefield, picking off stragglers. He saw his target on the far side of the room, a red headed woman with a double-bladed sword. She saw him and smirked, lifting her weapon.

Behind her, his people were bound together in a loose circle, all of them slumped over and unconscious. Shera at the front, blood staining her coat.

The woman, they'd found her out in the mountains, confused and dazed, so they took her back to town and showed her the height of Rocket Town's hospitality. Shera was the kindest to her. She wouldn't hear of Vincent's suspicions, insisting that it was fine.

They should have listened. She was a clone of one of the original Tsviets, existing solely to kill.

The woman blurred forward, so fast that she left afterimages behind. Cid spun his spear, blocking the first strike in a spray of sparks. He moved too slow for the next hit; the sword cut a long, thin slice along his rib. Hot blood gushed down, soaking his shirt and pants.

The third hit bounced off the shaft of his spear, and he caught the fourth between the tines of the spear head. With a grin, he twisted viciously, throwing off her balance just enough that he could press the attack. She didn't fall back, but it was all she could do to fend him off.

All Cid had to do was hold out. That's all he ever had to do.

What remained of the world still looked to him as some kind of hero, but he was nothing but a distraction, a figurehead. He'd never amount to Tuesti's legacy, never be as good a leader as Cloud.

"Hey, gorgeous, how 'bout ya get on them knees for me?" Cid barked, when her attention strayed. He swung his spear, bashing the shaft of the spear off her sword guard to make her recoil and refocus.

Her eyes widened, brows furrowing, mouth drawn down in sheer fury. She never saw the streak of red coming from one side and the streak of black from the other. Vincent slammed into her from above, Cait from below, claws and teeth going for her vitals. They snarled, one deep and echoing and the other high and horrible.

Cid stood back and watched them rip her throat open, watched her blood spill, and watched the sickly remnants of stolen lifestream drift up from her corpse. Her eyes stared glassily up at the ceiling, the color fading from her corpse. She wouldn't completely dissolve because she wasn't real.

Vincent's form shrank back down and he approached Cid with blood running down his chin, smeared across his hands and claws. Cid held his arm out, let Vincent tuck that blood-stained face into the crook of his shoulder. Cait clambered up the other side, clinging to Cid's back with one arm thrown over the other shoulder.

When they stopped shaking from adrenaline, Cid said, "Good job." He rubbed soothing circles against Vincent's back. "Let's get 'em home."

"Aye, aye, boss," Cait chirruped, nuzzling against his jaw before it bounced off of him to go untie the prisoners and begin waking them.

"Ya alright, Valentine?"

"Tired."

"Yeah..." Cid looked around, overwhelmed with exhaustion as they stood there in the wreckage of another Tsviet base, another fight barely won. "Can't quit here."


	9. his birthday's not in february

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gen, 1239 words - cid & vincent friendship, birthdays

"Hey, Cid! You seen Vincent?"

Cid lowered his newspaper and glanced at his watch. 1230, right on schedule. He shook the paper, folded it up, and set it against his thigh.

Only then did he look at his guests, all lingering in the driveway, uncertain of their welcome--Tifa with a heavy canvas tote under one arm; Yuffie with a huge umbrella propped against her shoulder; Cloud and Barret dawdling behind with the cooler.

"Yanno how he is." Cid shrugged. "Same shit every year."

Face falling, Tifa nodded. "Yeah. Well... We're here." She scuffed her shoes in the dirt, eyes downcast. "Do you want to come have a picnic with us, anyway?"

"Might as well."

Aerith was the one who found out about Vincent's birthday, all those years ago. She kept it a secret from everyone, right up until the end. No one thought much of it when she presented Vincent with a big pink milkshake; she was always trying to get him to eat anything at all.

Then she left. She'd written them all letters. For some reason, Cid's was the one that imparted the secret date-- October 13th.

He remembered looking at the date and feeling something shift inside his chest, an awful, painful lurch. Aerith's letter asked him not to let time wash everything away. Not to forget starlight and dreams and everything that made the world good and kind.

Cid barely knew her for a couple months before she was gone. Still, he cried big, ugly tears that splashed down onto the paper and smeared the ink.

She was just such a girl.

Anyway, it became Cid's unofficial duty to ensure that Vincent had nice birthdays.

He fucked it up that first year, bad enough that everyone else found out and made it into a big clusterfuck of overenthusiastic, well-meaning bullshit.

The look in Vincent's eyes was one of pure betrayal. It faded to resigned exhaustion by the end of the night. Vincent faded, too, ran off into the wilds not to be seen again for months after.

From then on, October 13th went like this:

Cid woke up at 0800 to clean his house and prepare for guests. He got his best tea set down and set the table. No need to worry about what they'd eat, the gang always brought their own food. Their own drinks, too, since Cid only drank tea or cheap beer on special occasions.

October 13th wasn't supposed to be a special occasion.

After getting his house in order, it'd be about noon. Cid would go and sit on the porch to wait.

The gang showed up asking after Vincent every year, usually around 1230. Cid would shrug and tell them he didn't know and herd them along through whatever foolishness they wanted to do. He'd play a good host to them, offering them every hospitality. He'd even let them stay over for a couple days if they needed.

And then he'd see them all off and assure them that the next time he saw Vincent, he'd pass along the gifts and the well-wishes and remind him to call.

Vincent never showed up for these little shindigs. Cid knew where he was, of course, off visiting his mother's grave and reminiscing about years long past with an old friend long thought to be dead.

The man deserved his privacy and Aerith entrusted Cid to protect it. So he did.

When all their friends slunk off back to their homes, satisfied and partied out, Cid went inside and collapsed face first onto his couch. The debris of the party littered every surface. He didn't have the energy to bother with it.

He fell asleep.

Fingers walked up his back, slow and purposeful. Cid grunted and rolled onto his side to stare up at the silhouette of the birthday boy himself.

"Wha' time issit?"

"The witching hour."

"Fuck." Cid rolled off the couch and stretched with a groan. He was getting too damn old for napping just anywhere. "Party bus ran my ass over."

Vincent plucked a piece of silvery confetti from Cid's graying hair. "Did you have fun?"

"Got leftovers to last me a while in the fridge. Cake and all the good ass fixin's."

Turning the confetti so that it glinted in the light, Vincent hmmed. Then he flicked his fingers outwards, allowing the silvery bit of tinsel to drift slowly to the floor between them. Cid swayed as he stared down at it, gaze unfocused.

"Go to bed, Chief."

"...Yeah."

Yawning, Cid limped off to bed.

In the morning, his house was set to rights, all signs of the party erased from existence. A lump of red slumbered on his couch.

Vincent would stay for the rest of the month, coming and going but always asleep on Cid's couch by morning. That was part of the schedule, too.

And then he would be gone on the morning of November 1st.

Cid's house always felt a little lonely and empty after that. He threw himself into his work instead of sitting around feeling sorry for himself.

Though he and Vincent would meet up on occasion and they exchanged weekly--or at least biweekly--texts or phone calls, November to February were lonely, working months, broken up only briefly by being dragged into holiday celebrations by the rest of the gang.

The thing about avoiding October 13th was that it spilled into the next birthday party. It should have been Aerith's job to pick up the slack but she was gone, and that left Cid.

February 22nd went like this:

Cid made sure he had the week off. At 0800, he got up and went downstairs. His house was tidied up, the tea set out, the table set. The smell of fried eggs and bacon and coffee filled the air.

Red eyes watched him from across the table as he sat down to eat.

"S'good," Cid mumbled, around a mouthful of eggs.

"Hmm." Vincent sipped his coffee. "Are you prepared for this?"

"Ehh..."

As if afraid they might be late and miss out, the gang always showed up as early as possible. The doorbell rang around 0900. Cid answered the door with a grumble.

"Hi, Cid, happy birthday!" Tifa leaned to the side, peering over his shoulder. She relaxed as soon as she saw Vincent in the living room. "We brought cake and everything!"

Cid accepted the covered cake thrust at him. He sidestepped to avoid getting bowled over as the crowd of visitors pushed their way in.

Tifa, Cloud, Barret, Marlene, Denzel, Shelke, Elmyra, Yuffie, Nanaki, Reeve, Cait, and Shera. The whole damn parade of idiots showed up for Cid's birthday. They brought food and treats and an excess of gifts, enough for _two_ parties.

Later, when it was dark out, the Turks would show up with alcohol in hand. And Vincent's old friend, grizzled and scarred and unfailingly polite, might linger at the edge of the party with a bottle of wine for Vincent and a packet of really expensive cigarillos for Cid.

Officially, everyone showed up to celebrate Cid's birthday.

Unofficially, everyone agreed that Vincent's birthday was actually in February. The records were wrong, that's all. They'd have to fix that sometime. Reeve assured them that he'd get the paperwork started.

Meeting Vincent's gaze across the room, Cid lifted a shoulder with a grin. He mouthed, _happy birthday_ , and red eyes rolled, the faintest hint of a smile on that pale face.


	10. birthdays past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gen, 365 words - aerith & vincent, birthdays past

"Hello, Vincent."

Cool red eyes watched her from over the mantle. Otherwise, Vincent said nothing and made no move to acknowledge her presence. She took that as an invitation to kneel in front of him, her dress draped over her knees.

He sometimes scared her, but not in the way the others thought. Oh, the monstrous forms and the wild moods and strange things he said were plenty cause for concern, but like Cid and Yuffie, she learned how to avoid getting ripped to pieces by pretending nothing was out of the ordinary.

No, what scared her about Vincent was that he had nothing. Nothing but his quest for revenge. She lay awake at night, wondering what he would do, after. Would he go back to the coffin and sleep some more? Or...

Aerith shook her head and fixed her smile on her face. "You're sad today."

"...What makes you think that."

"Well..." She glanced to the side, at the faint shimmer of a silhouette beside him. "You know, the dead are supposed to return to the lifestream and become something else, right? But sometimes... they hang on. Because they're worried."

Vincent shrank into his cape. The claws skittered across the shiny gold wall behind him, scraping. They were out on a balcony at Gold Saucer, colorful lights flicking on and off above them. He could seriously hurt her if he lashed out, throw her over the railing, _something_ , but he looked for all the world as if he'd rather vanish on the spot.

"It's her anniversary, right?"

Softly, he said, "Yes."

"She's not mad, you know, that you stopped visiting..." Aerith tugged at the buttons on her dress. "...but maybe you should visit her again, soon."

Vincent looked around them, at the endless expanse of blue above and the desert below, at all the obnoxiously cheery lights and decorations he hated so. Tomorrow, they would set out on their quest again, chasing Sephiroth's shadow.

"I know, I know, we don't have time right now, but... Maybe next time. I promise it'll be okay. She'll wait for you."

"Maybe next time," he agreed, after a while.

"Do you want to go get a milkshake?"

"...Alright."


End file.
